Dear Edward
by Scorpion Sun
Summary: Seventy years after Edward is forced to leave Forks for his and Bella's safety, he returns to see if she took his instructions to be changed and wait for him. She proves difficult to find, until he discovers a series of letters she left for him.
1. Prologue

**All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. **

**Rated M for sex, language, graphic violence, death, cruelty, perversion, and sadness.**

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_**Full summary:** The Volturi decide not to take Edward and Alice's "no" for an answer, forcing them to leave Forks and Bella behind. Seventy years later, Edward returns to see if Bella took his instructions to be changed in his absence and wait for him. She proves difficult to track down, until he discovers that she left him a series of letters in all the places that became important in her life. He tracks them down one by one, and slowly puts together her memoir of her life without him. Inspired by the novel "Tuck Everlasting" by Natalie Babbit._

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Out of the silent trees the five shepherds of the living dead made their stealthy way towards their prey. Edward could see the glint of their ruby eyes beneath their shadowy hoods, the bloodlust running beneath their shallow skins like a whitewater torrent beneath a layer of fragile mist. He could discern the tremor of their thoughts, blending and weaving together in a hopeless disharmony –

_the deep baritone growl of the warrior, the bear, his muscle and sinew a wall of solid rock, a heaving mountain of potential violence aching for nothing more than to burst forth, to crush blood and bone; _

_the silky black tenor of the hunter, the panther, forever curled and crouched to spring, thirsting always for the quest, to stalk, to bear down upon, the crowning of his glory always a surprise attack, his prey's last moment one of sheer terror; _

_the humming alto of the death of love, the horned snake, her power a silent knife the heart cannot detect, maximizing herself through the act of division, clipping at the threads that connect destinies, a scalpel, a wedge, a canyon, slipping through the fiercest of loves as easily as smoke, snapping like twigs the ties that bind; _

_the distant murmurs of the shadow, the raven, the child of dark, his terror one of nothingness without peace, his mind a forest of the lost, his hand extended to take everything, withdrawing to leave utter deprivation, a robber of the senses, offering only a silence so loud that the mind cannot hear itself scream;_

_and the cold soprano of the arsonist, the demon among monsters, the fire of her rage born in the dead pit of Hell, a pyre of agony for her prey, searing the skin of the mind, a cold fire swallowing her charred heart for three and a half centuries, an ancient child, a devil with the face of a golden cherub._

They stood before Edward – Felix, Demetri, Chelsea, Alec, and Jane – with their minds exposed, and the shrieking din of their heartlessness overwhelmed him. He alone could find them in their personal sanctuaries, the cloisters of their minds, where even they could not hear all that was said, but their spoken words were guarded, and he could not reveal what truths lay forgotten in their thoughts, shrouded by their tongues.

The demon child spoke aloud to him and his family, her voice light, her words without weight, but her own mind was heavy with deceit. She questioned them about the newborn horde, how they had come to be overtaken, and why one remained. When her governmental duty was satisfied, she let the venom flow in her mouth. _PAIN_ her mind cried out, and the newborn in the field – Carlisle's rescue and a reprieve for his heart, swollen as it was with the death all around him – shrieked her agony as the sacrificial fire of Jane's human death covered her. Jane burned her and burned her and burned her. So many years later, and she still could not quench the flames that licked at her dead soul.

When Jane had shaken from the newborn all that she knew, she discarded her shell like so much refuse. "Felix," she barked to the warrior, the bear, "take care of that."

The shattering of sinew and bone was a formality – Jane had wrenched from the wretched creature something deeper than blood. This collection of joints and skin was just something to pile on the fire. The pungent smell washed over them, and Edward could taste it in Jane's mind – to her, it smelled sweet. He retched.

He wanted her gone. No words could express the distaste he held towards this demon child. He hated her mind – it seethed like a bloody sea in a storm. She held her unjust death inside her, carrying the weight of her own dead body like a cross, and every face she saw reminded her of what was taken from her. Her brother, who had shared her death, had long since allowed his mourning to pass, so she carried his hate with her, too – the weight of the dead doubly heavy on her tiny shoulders. Her heart bled so freely, so stricken with pain, that it hurt Edward to hear the echoes of its beats pounding back at him from the distant past, growing fainter every day.

Only one part of Jane's heart was not consumed with fiery fury – the place where nestled her love for Aro. Her Master had saved her, allowed her eternal revenge for what she looked back upon as the slaughter of two innocents in the name of superstition. If Alec was her Sun and Moon, then Aro hung them in the sky. Her hate of everyone and everything on Earth was equaled by the passion of her love for him. And it was to him that her mind turned then.

_We shall bring our Master the joy he is too kind to bring himself. Alec and I shall deliver to him his most coveted prizes… Edward and Alice Cullen. Never again shall anyone doubt that we are his left and right hands, his true prodigies._ Her thoughts blazed with an ancient secret fire. She was beyond reason.

Edward's mind cried out his terror as he felt the cold fingers of Alec's shadow cloak his family in darkness, leaving only Bella, Alice, and himself in the harsh cold light. All Edward's thoughts were for his love – he would shelter her always, even to his detriment. He held Bella behind him and could not move to protect himself as the panther and the bear advanced on his sister and him. Felix's icy hand gripped his neck; Demetri restrained Alice.

Edward's rage exploded from him and was met equally by Jane's. Her fury crippled him, broke him, set him alight. _PAIN._ The word was so loud that he could hear it clearly over the searing, burning agony that ripped through his body. His knees buckled, but Felix held him up, lifting him from the ground. Edward's arms waved and flailed uselessly against the torment, his face tilted upwards in a silent scream. He was being crucified.

It ended as suddenly as it had begun. Jane's imperious expression swam back into focus. He felt for Bella's hand behind him. It was gone. Instead, her brown eyes, now dark with fright, stared back at him from behind Jane, her throat clasped in one of Chelsea's steely hands. The other fist held tight around Jasper's neck. Edward's brother was restrained by Alec's obscuring fog, Edward's lover by her humanity.

His fury became desperation and he lashed out at Jane again, roaring like a wounded animal. He wanted to hurt her, wanted to watch her die.

_PAIN._

He writhed and shrieked in agony once more, his frame convulsing. He could feel himself breaking. He was on a cliff above a world of flaming ice. He was hanging on… but why? Why not just succumb, let his body become a pathway? The pain could move through him, harmlessly. He would be dead, and he would be free.

Alice's voice saved him. "What do you WANT, Jane?" The sheer simplicity of her plea was startling, as if there existed something on Earth that Jane could want so much that she would torture for it, as if there were some measurable reason for her behavior. Both she and Edward knew better. Jane did not torture – she toyed. She caused harm not for gain, but for enjoyment. It was the only thing that made her feel alive.

Edward knew that she sometimes wondered at her desire for it – even for a vampire, she was alarmingly sadistic. Only Edward could see within her to a place she would not look herself. Deeper into her soul than her child's fingers could reach lay the truth: that she inflicted pain to rid herself of it. The eternal burning never left her inside, and every ounce of agony she visited upon others was in an effort to remove it from within her. Only Edward could see that the only way out for Jane was through, that the only place to douse the fire was the black abyss at her very core. To end it she would have to push it deeper, and that was something she would never, ever do. Edward had never had the chance to explain this to her, and even if he had he never would have. The only other person who could have seen this in her was Aro, but his love for her was blind, and purposefully so.

"What do you WANT, Jane?" Alice's cry hung in the air.

"She wants us, Alice," Edward called to her. He looked through Jane's eyes to see her face. "Same as always."

Jane nodded her agreement. "This encounter can end a number of different ways, but we're going to let you choose which one. We're willing to offer you a trade." She gestured to Bella, whose eyes still swam with terror.

Oh, Bella. What mountain wouldn't he move for her? How could they hold her, touch her this way, hang her up as bait, as if she were no more than flesh? It was more than her blood that sang to him – she sang to him like Heaven sings to saints. When he looked at her it was almost as if his heart beat again, as if he needed to breathe. It was the strangest dichotomy: his love for her made him as vulnerable as a lamb, while her love for him made him as strong as a lion.

"Option number one: your little pet here gets euthanized, and we go on our way. She's a danger to our community as she is. An entire army was raised wholly on her account, and it almost exposed us all. We can't leave here with her still in this… state." She laughed a cold, merciless laugh. Edward snarled.

"Option number two: we take Alice and the human back with us to Volterra, and Edward and the rest remain. Alice takes her rightful place in our guard, and Aro gets to allow the human girl her full potential." Edward's whole frame shook with his rage.

"Or option number three," Jane continued, her face lit by a kind of demented glee, "both Alice and Edward accompany us back to Volterra, and the girl gets a free pass. I'll personally see to it that no member of our guard ever comes for her again." She paused to let her words sink in.

"Can I safely assume that we'll rule out option number one?" She smiled cruelly. Both Edward and Alice nodded.

"Good. So, Alice, that means you've decided to come with us. Now, to ensure that you keep up your end of the deal, we'll be taking along a little insurance." Chelsea gripped Jasper's throat tightly, eliciting a rasping, gagging sound.

Alice whimpered. "You said the others would be left alone, Jane!" She was close to tears.

Jane was obviously reveling in her ultimatums and Alice's outburst cramped her style. Her temper broke for a moment. "Don't question my methods, Alice. What must be done must be done." She straightened herself. "So that leaves you, Edward," she observed, turning to him. "Who will be accompanying Alice and Jasper? You… or your pet?"

There wasn't a single moment of deliberation in Edward's heart. The thought of being separated from her was agonizing, especially now that she had agreed to allow his life with her to become so complete. When he looked at her now, he did not see Bella his lover or Bella his girlfriend – he saw Bella his fiancée, the woman who would soon share his name, his bed, and his life in the eyes of God. But the thought of sending her off to Volterra to face certain immortal doom at the hands of a man who only valued her for her ability as a shield – that he absolutely could not bear. He had no choice but to agree to accompany Jane now, unless…

Ever his true sister, Alice's mind reached out to him. _We can't let this happen, Edward._

Edward looked up at the sky, careful to move only his eyes, then down at the ground. She understood it as a nod.

_We'll agree to go with them, and ask that we be allowed to say goodbye to everyone first, without Alec in their heads. Hopefully she'll have the muscles drop us – if we promise not to run – so that they can restrain them while they're conscious. We'll ask to say goodbye to Emmett first – he'll understand what we're doing. He can take down whichever one is holding him, and you take down the other. I'll head for Alec. If he's distracted the rest of them will wake up. I know you won't like it, but you'll have to tell Bella as quickly as you can to distract Jane – she's the only one whom Jane can't affect. As soon as the others are awake, Jasper can take her down and the rest of them can take care of Chelsea._

Edward nodded with his eyes again. He didn't like putting Bella in danger in any way, but if this plan was to succeed then they'd need her to use her power to buy them a few moments. Hopefully, in her surprise, Jane would forget that she couldn't affect Bella and focus on her, giving Jasper time immobilize her.

"Well?" Jane had grown impatient.

"Let Bella go," Edward conceded. "I will accompany you instead of her."

Jane grinned wickedly, obviously thrilled that she was getting her way. "Excellent!" She gestured to Chelsea, who released Bella and Jasper. Bella rubbed her neck, her eyes fixed on Edward, but didn't move away.

"But first," Alice amended, and Jane's face twisted slightly as she turned to her, "we'd like to say goodbye to our family. We promise to remain still and allow you to use Felix and Demetri to restrain them one at a time if you'd like."

Jane sighed in exasperation – their sentimentality was nothing more than an irritating inconvenience to her. "Fine," she conceded, waving her arm impatiently to Felix and Demetri, who promptly dropped them. "Get on with it."

"Alec," Alice instructed, "we'd like to speak to Emmett."

Alec nodded once, and Edward could track his mind pulling back from Emmett's. His brother's eyes grew clearer as Felix strode over to stand behind him, clamping his massive hands down on Emmett's shoulders. Alice and Edward approached him.

"Emmett?" Alice tried cautiously, and Emmett's eyes rested on her face. He could hear them. "Emmett, the Volturi have offered us a trade for Bella's safety. Edward, Jasper and I must accompany them back to Volterra to… to serve in their guard." Her voice broke momentarily. "We're leaving now. We'd just like to say goodbye."

Emmett's eyes moved to Edward's face. _You want me to take out the one behind me?_ Edward nodded with his eyes. _Right. One, two, three…_

"Bella!" Edward shouted as he whirled around and dashed wildly past her towards where Demetri was standing. Behind him, he could hear Emmett and Felix struggling and Alice pouncing on Alec. "Bella – Jane!" Those were the only instructions he had time to give before he was leaping headfirst into Demetri.

Demetri was more than a match for Edward in muscle, but Edward had the advantage of hearing his opponent's thoughts, and so had him pinned to the ground within a short space of time. Struggling to keep Demetri down, he trained his thoughts momentarily on each member of his family. Alice had succeeded in distracting Alec long enough for the other Cullens to wake up and spring into action. Rosalie and Esme had taken down Chelsea, Carlisle was now assisting Emmett with Felix, and Jasper and Jane were locked in combat. Edward breathed a sigh of relief as he realized Jasper had ordered Bella to the safety of the trees, her moment of personal sacrifice – which she'd shouldered beautifully – leaving her unharmed. _We're going to make it, even if we have to kill them all._

Suddenly, Alice's earsplitting shriek of pain rent the air around them, and Edward froze. In the moment he took to look back at Alice to see her writhing on the ground in pain next to Jasper, whom Jane had obviously overcome, Demetri managed to wrap his arms around Edward's throat. As Edward squeezed his eyes shut, struggling against the crushing pressure, two loud cracks split the air, one after the other, followed by two heartrending wails of despair.

"Demetri, don't kill that one, we need him!" Jane's voice shrieked, and Demetri's grip on Edward relaxed to simple immobilization. Edward opened his eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't.

Felix stood triumphant before the bodies of Emmett and Carlisle – just the bodies. Their heads lay behind him. The twin wails of despair were emanating from Rosalie and Esme, who lay prostrate on the ground wracked by spasms of pain so intense that Edward thought for a moment that Jane was torturing them.

"God damn it, Felix, killing the big one is one thing, but did you have to kill Carlisle? Aro is going to HATE this." Jane seethed. "Just… just get ahold of those two." She gestured at Jasper and Alice, who were lying side by side on the ground, recovering from Jane's torture. Felix dragged them to their feet and held them both by their necks.

Edward felt as if the world were falling out from under him. He continued to stare at the dismembered bodies of his father and brother, searing his eyeballs as if by doing so he could will the vision to change. This could not be happening. He found himself hoping with his whole heart that he was dreaming, even though he had not slept in nearly ninety years. This was a nightmare. This was Hell. Every moment he'd shared with his father and his brother, every beloved memory, every ounce of love he held for them, came crashing down on his body like lead. He fell to his knees. Razors of pain tore at every inch of his body, inside and out. He was dying – he could feel it. His chest was collapsing in on itself. His skin ached. His eyes felt heavy. He was vaguely aware of a steady rain streaming down his face.

Chelsea and Alec went to stand next to Jane.

"Oh, will you be quiet?" Jane shouted in irritation at Rosalie and Esme. "Alec, do something about them."

"Wait!" Esme screamed, reaching her hands up to Jane as if in prayer, her tear-streaked face seeming to overflow with pain. "Kill me, please. Please. Just kill me."

Jane wrinkled her nose. "Why would I do that? You're no threat anymore."

Esme screamed as if her muscles were being stripped from her bones. The hair on the back of Edward's neck stood on end.

"PLEASE!" Her throat sounded as if it were being rent in two. "If you have any mercy in your heart, Jane, please!"

"I don't have time for this," Jane said dismissively, striding over to where Carlisle and Emmett's bodies lay. "We have to dispose of this and get back to Aro before he notices our absence." She began breaking Carlisle's body into pieces and stacking them. "Alec, get the big one."

Alec moved towards Emmett's body, eliciting a protective growl from Rosalie who crouched over it, still sobbing. From the deep abyss in which he lay in his mind, Edward could still feel Alec extend his dark shadow over her, and she rolled over as if dead, leaving Emmett exposed. Alec began to break the body up into pieces and stack them next to Carlisle's.

"How can you leave me this way?" Esme shrieked, more to the sky than to anyone in particular – it was clear the Volturi weren't listening to her anymore. Her body shook so roughly it seemed she might explode from the sheer force of her grief.

_Poor thing, look what it's done to her. We can't leave her here, not like this._ Edward looked around to determine the origin of the sympathetic thought, and saw Chelsea's eyes on Esme's broken face. _Here, darling, I can help you…_

Chelsea pushed her mind out towards Esme, driving it towards her like a wedge. Esme's broken mind offered no resistance. Edward could hear every hack of the divider in Chelsea's mind until Esme's sobs had quieted and she lay face down on the ground, breathing deeply.

"Go now, Esme," Chelsea whispered, crouching down beside her. "Just go. Get away from here. You're free."

Esme raised her tear-streaked face to Chelsea's. "It's gone," she breathed in disbelief. "The pain is gone."

Chelsea shook her head. "It's not gone," she corrected. "It was never there. You're no longer broken. You are free from the burden of your love. Now go, Esme. I've done all I can for you."

Esme nodded, standing on her shaky legs. Without another word, she turned and strode into the forest. Edward watched her go, knowing he would never see his mother again. He felt almost as if she had died today, too, but it was different – it was as if Chelsea had given her a new life, a second chance, and Edward was hard-pressed to begrudge her that. He imagined what he'd do if he lost Bella like Esme had just lost Carlisle. Of course, he'd do what he did before, on that fateful day that he'd thought he really had lost her. But if the Volturi would not agree to kill him, would he settle for allowing them to break all bonds he held to her to ease the pain? He shook his head. He didn't think any amount of strength Chelsea could offer could do that for him. Still, it seemed to have worked for Esme, and as long as she was no longer in pain…

"Rosalie?" Chelsea asked softly, kneeling next to her and shaking her shoulder. She looked up at Alec, who nodded and retracted the fog from Rosalie's mind. "Rosalie? Would you like me to take the pain away?"

"No!" Rosalie's voice was so adamant and wrathful that the pain was almost hidden. "No, Chelsea, don't rob me of my joy just so I can't feel the pain. Leave me." She didn't get up.

Chelsea shrugged, and went to help Jane and Alec start a fire.

Edward could see now that there was no way that he, Alice, and Jasper could fight off five skilled members of the Volturi guard. They had lost even when they'd had the advantage in numbers. They would be taken back to Volterra and forced to serve. At this point, he wasn't sure he cared. He'd lost almost everything. Everything, except…

"Demetri?" Edward asked quietly. "Demetri, can I ask you a favor?"

"What is it, Edward?" The voice behind him was silky and dark.

"Demetri, I understand now there's no way we can win. We'll have to accompany you. I have accepted that. However," he paused, "I would like to say goodbye to Bella and my sister before I go."

Demetri chuckled. "You think you're going to get away with that again, Edward?" He shook his head. "No, no, you had your chance to say goodbye."

"Demetri, it's just me this time. No Alice. I couldn't even pull off an escape with the help of my entire family. You think I could do it by myself? I just want to speak to each of them for a moment. You can stand with me if you like."

Demetri was quiet for a moment as he considered. _I can't say no to Edward… not with that pretty face of his… _Edward fought back a shudder as Demetri's thoughts took a steep turn to a place where his mind was loathe to follow. Demetri had always had a… soft spot for him. Not until now had he ever considered using that to his advantage.

"All right," Demetri conceded. "Where'd your little pet run off to?"

"That way." Edward gestured towards the woods. Demetri released his grasp on Edward and prodded him forward, following closely behind him. As Edward neared the trees, he called out softly. "Bella? Are you there?"

"Edward?" Her voice was shaking so much she could barely get the word out. "Oh, Edward!" She leapt from her hiding place behind a tree and wrapped her arms around his neck, sobbing Emmett and Carlisle's names. Demetri watched like a hawk.

"Bella," Edward whispered as quietly as he could, wrapping an arm around her waist and raising the other to stroke her dark hair, "Bella, we've lost. I have no choice but to leave."

"Don't leave," she murmured back. "Let me go instead. Aro can change me and then we can be together."

"No." Edward pulled away from her and stared into her eyes. "I won't let you be changed, not that way. Listen, Bella, I have another plan. I can't explain it to you now, but very soon, I promise, you will get your wish. I have to go to Volterra now, and none of us will be left here, but Jane has promised me you will be safe. From the Volturi, at least." He tried to smile and failed. "And Victoria is dead, so all of your immediate threats are gone."

"Edward," she whispered, her hands clenching at his shirt in fear, "please don't leave me. Not again."

For a moment, she was the lamb and so was he. He wanted to break in her arms. He wanted to hold her forever, to live here in her embrace, like a bubble that just barely warded off the overwhelming pain.

"It's different this time, my love." He tried to sound reassuring, as much for himself as for her. "This time I am promising you I will come back to you. We will both have to be patient, but I promise you, one day, we will be together again."

"You can't tell me any more?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered truthfully, pressing his forehead to hers and closing his eyes. "I'm so sorry. It will all make sense to you soon, I promise. Please, please understand." A moment passed, and then she nodded.

"I do." The fingers of her right hand absently twirled the ring he had given her.

Edward stooped his head to bring his lips to hers. He kissed her as passionately as he knew how, knowing it might be the last time for a very long time. She responded to him equally, crushing her body against his and devouring his mouth, and for the first time Edward abandoned his restraint. He pried her lips open with his and slid his tongue inside, filling her mouth with his own, consuming her in his urgent desire. Bella moaned against him. A flame of desire was fighting its way through Edward's thick cloud of despair.

"All right, that's enough!" Demetri called from behind him, and Edward felt himself being jerked away from Bella. They both gasped unhappily, their longing unsated, but Edward gave in to Demetri as he began to drag him back to the clearing.

"Bella!" Edward shouted at her as her figure grew smaller. "Bella, go home! I will come for you there! I love you and I will come for you! I love you Bella!" _Wait for me!_ he wanted to shout, but something inside him wouldn't allow him to. He wanted to place a glass case over her, to preserve her just like she was. When he came back, he wanted it to be as if no time had passed, as if nothing had happened. But a voice in his mind spoke to him, the same voice that had convinced him to leave her those many months ago, reminding him that this was – in a twisted, perverted way – what he had wanted for Bella all along. He was giving her an escape from his immortal damnation, one he could never have convinced her to accept while he was still with her. He wanted to call out to her _Wait for me!_ but all that his voice could say was, "I love you Bella! I love you!"

"All right, we get it," Demetri scoffed as he hauled Edward around to face the other direction. "Now you get to speak to your sister and then we're on our way." He thrust Edward towards Rosalie where she still lay on the ground.

"Rosalie," Edward whispered urgently, "Rosalie, listen to me."

_What is it, Edward?_ Even her thoughts sounded accusing.

"Rose, they're about to take Alice and Jasper and me away. You have to promise me something before we go."

_What do you want?_

"I need you – " he lowered his voice as far as it would go, "I need you to go to Denali for me. I need you to go to Denali and get Tanya. I need her to come back here and… change Bella."

Rosalie rolled over and looked at him, her eyebrows raised. _What?_

"Please, Rose. I might be gone for a very long time and I need Bella to be able to wait for me. Tanya's the only person left whom I trust to be able to perform the change on Bella. Please, Rose. Please can you do this for me?"

Rosalie was silent for a moment. _Why should I do this for you? It's because of you that Emmett's dead. It's because of you that this family is shattered. I don't owe you anything._

"Rosalie!" Edward whispered frantically, trying to keep his voice under control. "Whatever complaints you have with me, we can sort those out when I get back. I will find a way to get back, Rose, I promise. But before that happens, please, will you go to Denali and give Tanya my message?"

Rosalie looked at him for a long moment, contemplating, then nodded once.

"Thank you, Rose."

Edward stood up to face Demetri. "We done here?" the bodyguard asked gruffly. Edward nodded. "Good."

"We're done here, too," Jane called from the now smoldering pile of the ashes that were once his father and brother. "Demetri, Felix, you have them under control?" The two vampires nodded.

"Best to put them under, though, just in case. Alec?" Jane turned to her brother.

Edward caught one last glimpse of the towering pillar of greasy smoke, the last vestiges of his whole life literally gone up in flames, before the cold fog obscured his vision and he heard no more.


	2. Chapter One: Charlie's House

_You have to start at the beginning._

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The road to Bella's house, so perfectly preserved in my memory for over seventy years, seems endless now. I notice every tiny change: houses along the way with porches added or new coats of paint, new flowerbeds and new cars in every driveway. Some houses have been torn down altogether and replaced. One house has a tire swing hanging from a tree that, last time I saw it, had been just a sapling. I drive at a speed that would be slow for a human, and seems snail-like to me.

I don't know where my apprehension is coming from. Over the past few decades I've thought over every possible outcome that could present itself upon my return, and I've come more and more to the realization that only one is possible. If Bella had changed, she would have come looking for me by now. And since she hasn't – well, seventy years have passed… At any rate, I am resigned. Or so I'd like to believe.

I run my long white hand through my thick bronze hair and sigh, my breathing turning heavy. I am at a torturous impasse. The only thing worse than seeing would be… not seeing.

I park across the street from Charlie Swan's old house and stand looking at it for what seems like forever. At first glance it looks the same as the last time I'd seen it, with minor signs of wear: peeling paint here and there, more cracks in the driveway, and a new garage door. But the longer I look the more I notice: a family swing on the porch, different colors through the window of what was once Bella's room, what looks like a greenhouse just visible around the house's back corner, and, to the side of the driveway, a child's toy peddle car. Bella's old rubber boots no longer sit to the left of the front door. I swallow hard.

I open my mind to the house but hear no thoughts – just the simple wordless dreams of a sleeping dog in the back yard. Bella would never keep a dog.

The sound of a car moving down the street in my direction diverts my attention, and I turn my gaze. The driver is a woman in her mid-twenties, and she slows down the moment she notices me, peering at me suspiciously but not angrily as I lean against my own car. I immediately pry her mind.

_Who is THAT? Is he looking at my house? What does he want? Is he from Bill's work?_

So the house belongs to her. I feel a strange sensation of both disappointment and relief. I watch as the young woman parks her car in the driveway and reaches into the back seat to extract a young girl of about three, whom she holds tightly in her arms as she peers across the road at me.

"Hello!" she calls, trying to appear friendly, but is unable to keep a shaky suspicion from her voice. "Can I help you?"

I pause a moment, then stroll across the street with as much grace as I can muster, listening to her mind as I walk. _What the…_ The young woman's eyes become glazed and dim, and she seems to lose her train of thought. I fight back a smirk. I remember that exact expression on Bella's face – she had called it "dazzling".

"I think you can." I answer her spoken question as I approach her. "But allow me to introduce myself. I'm Edward Cullen." I smile widely without showing my teeth and raise my hand towards her. She fumbles, unable to look away from my face as she shifts the little girl to her left hip so she can shake my right hand.

"Brianna Danon," she breathes. Her thoughts are jumbled and generally incomprehensible, but I manage to pick out _Oh my God _and _I hope Bill's working late today._ I frown a little. The young woman is tiny, barely five feet tall with dark reddish-brown hair and pale blue eyes that makes me feel a strange twinge of something nostalgic. She is definitely pretty, but there is something about her, a tone to her thoughts that is familiar and uncomfortable.

"And this is my daughter Macy," she continues, looking down at the girl in her arms, obviously unaware of the change in my expression. "Say hello, Macy." The girl stares at me intently, but says nothing. I regard her curiously. Her skin is darker than her mother's, her hair is stick-straight, and her cheeks and jaw have strangely firm, prominent lines for such a young child. Looking at her, I would guess that her father was full-blooded Native American, but I can't remember any members of either the local Quileute or Makah tribes with the surname "Danon". But it is her thoughts that alarm me.

_He is not one of us._

Brianna chuckles. "Oh, she's shy!" she coos. "Don't worry, honey," she assures her daughter. "The nice man won't bite you."

I swallow again.

Brianna grins up at me. "Why don't you come inside," she suggests a little too strongly, "and we'll see what we can do for you?" She turns and, bouncing Macy in her arms, makes her way inside. I follow.

"Thank you so much for your time," I begin as we step through the door. Brianna sets her purse down on the dining table and places Macy's tiny feet on the floor, and the little girl scampers off into another room with obvious intent.

"Not at all!" Brianna babbles. "We just got back from gymnastics and were about to make some sandwiches for lunch. Would you like one?" _We could take them upstairs… or we could forget the sandwiches and just go upstairs anyway… _Her thoughts become decidedly inappropriate and I speak to drown them out.

"No, thank you. I can't stay long. I have a few questions for you, if that's all right."

"Certainly." Brianna nods as she opens the refrigerator and begins pulling out ingredients, but her brow furrows. _What kind of questions? Are we in trouble? Is Bill hiding something from me? Oh, shit… did he find out? _Her eyes dart towards the room into which Macy disappeared. _I knew this day would come. I'm surprised he hasn't asked for a paternity test already. But this man doesn't look like a doctor or a lawyer. He looks… well, he looks like a model…_

"They don't concern your family," I add quickly to alleviate her worry. "They're about… this house." Brianna looks up at me, surprised. "I'd like to know how you came to own it."

"Well," Brianna begins, slicing a tomato, "my husband Bill and I bought this house four years ago when we moved back to Forks. We'd been living together in Port Angeles for Bill's work. He's an environmental lawyer. Works with Olympic National Park a lot. He kept his job, but when we decided to get married I insisted on moving back here. I grew up here. I wanted to be close to my mom when I had kids." _And I didn't want Hunter finding out about Macy… or Bill finding out about Hunter._ "No way could I have raised Macy without her. Actually, there's a picture of my parents." She gestures with a knife towards the side of the stairway, where a number of family portraits hang in frames. I move to look at them.

In the photo she has gestured to, a man in his early sixties holds his arm around a similarly aged woman in front of a pale blue background, the same pale blue as the eyes behind his glasses. Such familiar eyes…

"That's the last portrait we had taken of momma and daddy before he died," Brianna explains from behind the kitchen counter. "Prostate cancer." I say nothing. No matter how many years go by, humans never seem to get any closer to finding cures for their worst ailments. Even after a century of research, diseases like cancer and AIDS still cut them down in their prime. At least none of them are dying in their own contrived wars anymore.

I look farther down the wall. The next photo is older, of Brianna's parents as a young couple. Brianna's mother, from whom Brianna has obviously inherited her auburn hair, holds a girl toddler in her arms, while her father places his hands on the shoulders of two young boys. "That's me momma's holding," says Brianna. "And those are my brothers, Mike and Alex. Mike is the blonde one on the left."

A bell rings deep inside my memory. "Mike?" I ask, turning to look at Brianna. "Mike… Newton?"

"Yes," Brianna answers cautiously, putting down her knife and coming to stand beside me. "Do you know my brother?"

"I don't know," I answer honestly, staring at the picture. The Mike in the picture is about nine or ten, with short spiky blonde hair and pale blue eyes. For a moment, my memory takes me back seventy-two years to Forks High School, to a young man whom I now remember not caring for much. The picture is strikingly similar, but something is off. The clothes are wrong. And if this is a picture of Brianna as a baby, then Mike's age would be decades off. I look down at Brianna. How old could she be?

Brianna peers back at me, her face asking a question. "He works down at the camping goods store. I could call him for you, if you like."

"Camping goods store?" I ask quickly. I already know which one she's talking about, but I ask anyway. "Newton's?" I jerk my thumb behind me. "I passed it on the way here."

"Yeah," Brianna nods. "It was my grandfather's store. Well, I guess it was actually my great-grandfather's store, after he moved here from California. Mike's been working there since before Grandpa died, but he's only taken over management since my dad passed. Grandpa had it in his heart since the day Mike was born, I think. Probably why he insisted on him being his namesake." She smiles nostalgically, but her mind is dark. _And loved him more than he loved any of his other grandchildren. Of course he couldn't just leave him the store. Had to leave him EVERYTHING._

"Namesake?" I pry. I do some quick mental math, and something falls into place.

"Oh, yeah." Brianna shakes her head, clearing her bitter thoughts. "Here's a picture of Grandpa and Grandma. They're really young here. Grandpa put on a beer gut just a few years later and never found a way, or… motivation, I guess, to lose it."

I nearly choke. Staring at me from behind the glass is the Mike Newton of my distant past, a few years older than I remember, but still with the same empty, harmless face and meticulous hair. Standing next to him – I smile internally – is the girl I remember as Jessica Stanley. They stand on a beach, beaming like newlyweds, which, I note from the ring on Jessica's finger, they probably are. Jessica's baby bump is barely visible beneath her cotton dress.

I stare intently down at Brianna, wondering why I didn't recognize it in her before – Jessica's heart-shaped face, her tiny frame, and Mike's washed-out blue eyes. The woman standing next to me is Mike Newton's and Jessica Stanley's granddaughter. I chuckle to myself. I now understand the familiar simpering tone of her thoughts, and why she has allowed me inside her home with only a name to go by. She's inherited even more from her grandmother than first met the eye.

"You have a beautiful family," I murmur softly, placing a hand on her shoulder, and Brianna's thoughts go fuzzy again. But I am growing impatient beating around the bush. "But I need to know – from whom did you purchase this house?"

_Right, the house. Why does he talk so funny? Not that it matters. He's soooo gorgeous! There's something strange about him, that's for sure, but how easy that would be to overlook…_ Her mind sinks into composed pictures of what she imagines I would look like without clothes, and I quickly bring her to attention.

"The house," I prompt again.

Brianna sighs. "It's probably a hundred years old. We bought it from a woman who used to babysit me. She said she'd owned it for oh, what was it… thirty-something years? Don't know who she bought it from. She'd been renting it out for most of the time she'd owned it, but we convinced her to let us buy it. So much more financially stable, being a homeowner –"

Her rambling is going nowhere, and I cut her off. "Do you remember her name, or where she lives?"

"Oh, I remember. See, this is a small town, everybody knows everybody else here." She smiles crookedly at me, but after waiting a few moments and realizing she's not going to get the folksy affirmation she's looking for, straightens her face and continues. "Her name is Cara Allman. She lives over by the hospital now, on Bogachiel Way. I can give you her address."

She walks to the dining table and reaches into her handbag to extract her mobile organizer. She types in several instructions and then reads me the directions to Ms. Allman's address. I listen attentively even though I have already heard them in her mind. Ms. Allman lives across the street and down a few blocks from the hospital, where she feels she can receive prompt care if she ever falls and hurts her hip again.

I nod at the information, pretending to type it into a note on my organizer. "Thank you," I say sincerely. "I'm sorry, I have to be going. But really… I can't thank you enough." I move to the front door.

A pattering sound emanates from the other room, and Brianna and I turn to see Macy moving quickly towards us. A long leather cord is clenched in her fist.

"Macy, sweetheart, there you are!" Brianna trills, picking her up and resting her on her hip. "What's that you have there?"

Wordlessly, Macy extends her hand towards me, and allows a pendant attached to the cord to drop from her palm. It sways in the air between us. I move forward to peer at it closely, though I can already see from across the room what it is.

It is a silver wolf, its face turned upwards in a howl.

I feel my breath catch. I look up into Macy's deep black eyes, and find them staring intently back into mine.

_You are not one of us._

"Thank you, Mrs. Danon." I say hurriedly, turning back and moving swiftly towards the door. I yank it open and step out, but before I can shut it behind me, Brianna calls out.

"Wait! What did you say your name was?"

I turn. Brianna's words echo in my head: _Everybody knows everybody else here_. I can see Macy's eyes fixed on me, as if attempting to tear me open, to reveal whatever is lurking beneath.

"Emmett," I lie. "Emmett McCarty."


	3. Chapter Two: The Back Room

Cara Allman is so decrepit that it takes her almost four minutes to get to the door after I ring the bell, four minutes in which I have to listen to her every mental cry of pain. I rock back and forth on my feet, for once fidgeting out of actual anxiety and not just to try to appear human, as she slowly slides back the bolt and cracks the door open.

"Who's there?" her ancient voice rasps out as she peers blindly through the tiny sliver she allows between the door and the jamb. "What do you want?"

"Ms. Allman? My name is… I'm looking for someone and was told you could help me."

Ms. Allman regards me for a long moment. _What a pretty young man. And so polite. Surely he can't be up to any mischief. Perhaps I can help him find what he's looking for._

She opens the door wider and shuffles aside so I can pass by.

"Thank you," I continue, stepping inside as Ms. Allman shuts the door behind me and replaces the latch. The curtains on the windows are drawn, and the interior of the house is lit only by a few lamps placed here and there. I can see perfectly in the relative dark, but I have no idea how Ms. Allman can.

The old woman wheezes roughly, making her way towards a padded chair in the living room. Without thinking, I place my hands under her elbows, helping to guide her to her seat. "Thank you, young man," she murmurs appreciatively. "Now. What is it that I can help you with?"

"Ms. Allman," I begin, seating myself in a chair across the tiny room from her, "you used to own and rent out a house on Mayberry Street, is that correct?"

"Yes, I did," Ms. Allman agrees, her shrunken brow furrowing. "I paid all my taxes on it, too. I have all the papers in a box in the back room if you'd like to see them."

"No, Ms. Allman, that won't be necessary." I smile. "I'm not here to interrogate you or ask about your financial history. Though I'm sure it's spotless," I amend quickly.

"Then what do you want?" she wheezes impatiently.

"I'd like very much to know from whom you purchased the house."

"Oh. Well, let's see." Ms. Allman digs into her memory while I listen. Odd things pop up that seem to have nothing to do with the question – Ms. Allman as a young woman in a bikini on a golden beach with a tall, dark-haired man; a white pony and a dark brown dog standing together on a green lawn; and a woman with sad brown eyes handing her an envelope.

"Oh, I remember," Ms. Allman says suddenly, and I'm startled – there was no mental indication that she'd reached any sort of conclusion. "I bought that house from a woman… must've been forty years ago… can't remember her name. But she was about my age. It was her father's house. She sold it to me after he died."

"Please, Ms. Allman," I press, leaning forward, "can't you remember anything about this woman, or her father?"

"Well…" Ms. Allman muses, and I find myself growing impatient with her slow memory. "I think she must have been his only child, because she was the only one dealing with his estate. She didn't tell me much about herself, but I remember her father was… what was he? A retired police officer?"

I nearly leap from my chair. I want to shake her, to make the words come faster. How can she have forgotten something so vitally important to me? I try listening to her thoughts to find clues to speed the process, but they are so mangled and random that I can't make sense of them. They seem to have nothing to do with what she's saying.

"My uncle had just died and left me some money, so I wanted to buy a house and rent it out for extra income," she reminisces. "I saw the ad for the house in the newspaper, so I called her up. She was very sweet, but… sad. I suppose because her father had just died. We took care of all the paperwork very legally," she says pointedly. "That was back when we still used paper for official transactions. Do you know, I remember when cars used to run on gasoline? I used to tell the school children that and they didn't believe me. So I stopped teaching, little bastards." Her thoughts roil off on an angry tangent a thousand miles from where I want them to be.

"So you bought the house?" I prompt.

"Yes," she affirms, jolting back to her former train of thought. "Bought the house, all the paperwork, and then…" I lean forward, ready. "And then… well, I never saw her again." She smacks her lips, satisfied.

"Ms. Allman," I say, trying desperately to keep an even tone to my voice, "please tell me you remember something, ANYTHING else."

The old woman stares blankly at me for several long moments in which she has no real thoughts at all. I feel as though I might explode.

"Oh!" she gasps, and I jolt – her sudden realization again comes with no mental warnings. "But she gave me something." She peers suspiciously at me, as if trying to see if she recognizes me or not. "What did you say your name was?"

I hesitate. Macy Danon's dark, accusing eyes stare out of my memory, haunting me. This old woman has lived here in Forks with people who might remember me. There could be no rational explanation for why I could arrive here, seventeen years old, asking for someone whom, for all I know, hasn't been seen for forty years. If I give her my real name…

_Edward Cullen._

The words seem to explode from Cara Allman's memory, she thinks them so loudly. She is looking for me. Something, some memory of Bella, has triggered my name.

I don't have to stop to weigh the risks.

"Edward Cullen," I state loudly.

"Well, goodness, son, why didn't you say that before?" she chides, and struggles to stand. I nearly leap across the room to assist her, then follow her shaky footsteps through a door at the back of the living room and down a dark hallway. Ms. Allman comes to an abrupt stop in front of the last door on the hall.

"Could you please, dear?" she requests, gesturing towards the doorknob. "My fingers don't grasp like they used to."

I reach around her tiny shoulders to firmly grasp and turn the handle. The door swings open, revealing a pitch black room. Ms. Allman shuffles a few steps forward, then reaches out to her left to fumble on the wall for the light switch. A ceiling lamp flickers on overhead.

The room is filled with boxes, some stacked on shelves around the walls, some placed in neat piles on the floor. There looks to be very little rhyme or reason to their organization, but Cara Allman shuffles forward with obvious intent, laying her hands on different boxes as she passes them by, thinking over their contents. _Photographs… cookbooks… lingerie… bones… _

"Here it is," she announces suddenly, taking me by surprise a third time. She runs her hands over an unremarkable brown box stacked on the floor on the far side of the room, carefully lifting the lid. I move to stand beside her.

Inside the box are photographs, blueprints, utility invoices, and certifications – all from Charlie Swan's old house. Ms. Allman reaches her withered claw of a hand towards the back of the box and digs her fingers in behind a stack of tax forms to retrieve something. She extracts what was once upon a time a plain white envelope, but is now yellowed and crinkled with age, moth-eaten and water-stained to within an inch of its life. Ms. Allman holds the envelope out to me.

"This envelope made it through a flood," she explains softly, "so I'm sorry about its condition. I threw out everything else that had gotten wet. I imagine it's damaged, but I never opened it to see. That woman gave this to me when I bought her father's house. She said that if a young man named Edward Cullen ever arrived, I was to give this to him. But… you're so young? You weren't even born then. How…?" Her voice trails off.

I don't answer, but gingerly take the envelope from her hand. "Thank you, Ms. Allman."

After helping the old woman back to her living room, I thank her again and take my leave, then drive around the corner to the deserted parking lot of the Calvary Church, where I am sure to not be disturbed. For a long time I sit in my car, staring intently at the envelope, contemplating. Finally, as gently as I can, I slide my finger under the envelope's flap. The old adhesive separates without a struggle.

Inside are several sheets of lined notebook paper. I remove them carefully and unfold them. I can see that most of them are damaged and will be unreadable. On the first line of the first page is marked the date _August 14, 2040_. On the second line is written two words that fill my frozen heart with a pounding, painful joy.

_Dear Edward_…


	4. Chapter Three: Forks Cemetery

_Dear Edward,_

_Today I buried my father. He was the last thing that tied me to Forks, so I'm afraid you will not find me here. I have not lived in Forks for many years now, and after I have sold his house I will probably never set foot in this town again. The memory of him, along with the memory of you, Edward, haunts these streets too strongly for me to bear._

_I will spend my days in the only place I now belong. For the past thirty years now, I have lived _

I hold my eyes firmly on the last word on the line: "lived". It is the last word that is readable before the paper is taken over by the stain of water and the giant holes left by the mouths of moths. The following two pages are likewise rendered useless. Only tiny segments of words are left readable, sometimes single letters, sometimes words or parts of words. After poring over the pages again and again, I can discern a few random nouns and adjectives, along with several articles and conjunctions. Also, in two places, I can make out what looks like parts of my own name.

The final two paragraphs of the fourth and last page are mostly readable.

_has been enough – more than enough. Edward, I hope you will understand. For a while after you left I worried about you, wondering if somehow something bad had happened to you. But after so many years of thinking it over, of allowing my memories of you to take better root, I feel I now know you better than I ever did before. I have a faith in your strength that I can't describe – I know you will never fail at anything you set your mind to. If you are nothing else, Edward, you are a man of your word. It is a part of you. That is why I have faith that this letter will find its way to you one day. _

_And now that you are holding it in your hands and reading these words, don't waste another minute. Come find me, Edward. I am waiting._

_Much love, Bella_

I lean my head back and sigh, allowing the information to absorb. What I know is that Bella was in Forks thirty-eight years ago when Charlie died. What I don't know is where she's been since then. And I have to go by is this mangled letter. My eyes rove over the paper for the thousandth time, and my attention is again drawn to the last legible word on the first page – "lived".

Under any other circumstance, I would assume that this word in this context meant "inhabited" or "dwelt". The words that followed it would probably have detailed the place she had been calling home. But I am looking for clues here, and I can't help but feel that Bella is leaving me one. She knew how I felt about a vampire's so-called "life", and she would not have chosen this word carelessly. Even if she had, part of being a vampire is an innate understanding of the magnitude of the word itself. A vampire would never use the word to describe themselves, even if they weren't thinking about it. _I have lived._ Bella is telling me something important. She is telling me that, at the time the letter was written, she was still human.

So something went awry with the plan. The failure could have occurred at any number of junctions during the plan's execution, but two possibilities immediately stand out to me from the others, and they both revolve around Rosalie. Perhaps Rose never made it to Denali, which could have happened due to anything from her changing her mind (which seems unlikely, given the state of the situation at the moment of her departure) to her being waylaid or captured… or killed. But the other possibility I consider, and this somehow seems far more likely to me, was that Rose did in fact reach Denali, but never sent Tanya to perform the change on Bella. It was not a mission that Tanya would have refused had it been presented to her. I remember now the bitterness Rosalie held towards Bella for her desire to throw away her humanity. Wouldn't it be just like Rosalie to run to safety in Denali, but never deliver her message?

_Oh, listen to you!_ I chide myself mentally. _You were always against Bella changing. And here you are, blaming Rosalie for making the decision you should have made. Bella was better off for it._

But as much as I try to justify what had happened, I can't overcome a clawing sense of resentment. It was Bella's decision whether or not to become a vampire, one that Rosalie stole from her, and I can't quite forgive that.

_Calm down, Edward_. _You don't know any of this for sure. _

What do I know for sure, though? _That Bella had been in Forks until thirty-eight years ago when Charlie died…_ I growl in frustration as the single track of information begins a loop in my head again. _That Bella had been in Forks until thirty-eight years ago when Charlie died… when Charlie died…_

I look back to the letter. _Today I buried my father._ I smile. I've missed Charlie's funeral by almost forty years, but it can't be too late to pay my respects.

* * *

The Forks Cemetery is near the edge of town, past Mayberry Street where Bella used to live with her father. I've never visited it before – I've never had a reason to – but I've seen it when I used to pass by on foot, hunting with Emmett in the Olympic National Forest. I stare through the iron bars of the gate at the sad, mossy little graves for a long time before leaping lightly over the fence and landing on my feet on the other side.

I don't know what to feel as I walk slowly between the rows of headstones, but I muse absently that this is probably the least appropriate place that I could ever find to be in. I've never been quite sure if I think that humans are ticking time bombs just waiting here to die, or if they are proving themselves here, earning their death. I know vampires who think that death is a disease that grows and festers in the human soul until it consumes them. They believe humans to be crippled by death constantly hanging over them.

I have spent little of my eternity thinking about death in earnest. The few times I have were the moments when it stared me in the face. I thought about death – came close to feeling it, actually – as I lay on that ballet studio floor clinging to Bella's hand as if clinging to life. Tasting her blood on my tongue, knowing that every extra drop I swallowed was stealing a little of her life, was like death and orgasm simultaneously. Then there was the day I thought – hoped, actually – that I would die myself. Standing beneath that clock tower, my skin as exposed as my raw and dying heart… feeling her warm touch against me and the smell of her hair dragging me back out of hell… the split second in which I was certain that I had already died, that I was safe now… a small part of me continues to believe that I did die that day, and that I was reborn in her arms.

But the moment when I thought most deeply about death was the last day I saw her, the day I saw the dismembered bodies of my father and brother going up in smoke. I have forced my mind to consider it in tiny particles, one at a time, and I have finally processed it all. It's taken me forever to put all the pieces together into one picture, one understanding of the havoc that was wreaked upon my life. Even now, my breath shortens to gasps as I allow it out of the cage in the back of my mind. The borders of my pain threshold stretch and groan under memories of my father as I search for the final resting place of Bella's.

I reach the back fence of the cemetery, scanning each stone as I pass it, and finally stop in front of a modest, aged grave lying in the shadow of a pine tree. I kneel before it, reaching out to brush away a layer of dust and dirt that has accumulated over the stone.

"Hey, Charlie," I whisper as the name _Charles Daniel Swan_ is revealed scrolled across the top. _May 18, 1964 – August 9, 2040._ "Not bad, Charlie. Not bad at all."

The words beneath the name and date are eroded and caked with mud from numerous floods, but I imagine they once said something along the lines of _Loving Father, Served His Community…_ etc. I sigh. I don't know what I'm looking for, but whatever it is, I'm not finding it.

I stand and walk slowly around the grave, observing it from all sides, and crouch to look at the back of the stone. Something is set into it near the top, at the center. I look closely. It's an oval of amber the size of his thumb. Beneath it is etched in scrolling letters:

_Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope._

I frown. The words are so familiar, but I can't for the "life" of me guess what they're doing here on Charlie's tombstone. The words definitely speak about death, and yet they don't seem appropriate to describe a dead person. They seem better aimed at the living, as an instruction… or a clue. And to have it written on the back of the stone, here, it's almost like it's been hidden…

I stare at the amber droplet, and a vision seems to swim unbidden from my memory. It seems only yesterday to me now.

* * *

_Edward slammed his elbows down against the piano keys and rested his forehead on his palms. He didn't know why he was so upset about this – he got writer's block all the time when trying to compose new material, but for some reason he'd set his heart on finishing this piece today. He wanted something new to play for Bella, but he had no inspiration. The lullaby he'd written for her had summed up all his love and devotion so succinctly that he didn't know where he could begin to expand on it. _

_ "Edward, please, tell me how I can help."_

_ Edward smiled up at her, all his frustration melting away at the sound of her voice. "It's not like that, Bella," he explained as kindly as he could. "It's like… I don't know. There's a dark cloud over my imagination right now. I don't know where else I can go." _

_ Bella frowned at him for a moment, then turned and began walking out of the room towards the stairs. "You keep trying," she called behind her. "I'm going to see if I can find something to help you."_

_ Edward shook his head and chuckled. She'd never give up on him. He continued poking and prodding at different chords, trying to find something that sounded right, but all of his original compositions had been made for or about someone or something. And right now… he had nothing. Nothing that he hadn't already written a piece about, anyway._

_ "Here," Bella announced as she walked up behind him and placed something on the piano shelf. "How about that?"_

_ Edward peered at her offering. It was an oval of amber the size of his palm. Inside it was suspended an ancient insect, preserved with its gossamer wings stretched gorgeously apart. Edward lifted the stone and turned it over. Across the back etched into the pliant amber were the words _1 Thessalonians 4:13.

_ "Is that the number of a Bible verse?" Bella asked, leaning over his shoulder for a closer look. "Which one?"_

_** "**__Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope," Edward recited from memory, and Bella raised her eyebrows. "You found this on Carlisle's desk, didn't you?"  
_

_"Yes." Bella nodded. "I thought it looked kind of like the Sun, you know? It can shine through the dark cloud over your imagination." She grinned mischievously, taking the stone from Edward's hand and holding it up to the light streaming in from the window, and Edward noted how its orange glow did indeed have a solar quality. "What does it mean? The verse?"_

_ "It speaks of remembrance," Carlisle explained, stepping soundlessly up behind them, and both Edward and Bella turned to look at him. "This insect is preserved in a moment of great beauty, as those whom we loved should be in our memories. The verse asks us to remember those who have passed – not to lose ourselves in grief at their passing, but to celebrate our memories of them as they were, as we loved them."__ He nodded to Edward, his face a benevolent smile, then continued out of the room._

_ "Edward," Bella exclaimed excitedly, turning back to him, "do that! Make this a song about… what was it… the beauty in your memory of someone who has passed?" She laid the amber oval back on the piano shelf and smiled questioningly at him, judging his reaction._

_ "Bella," Edward shook his head and smiled, "nobody I know… dies."_

_ "Well…" Bella was thoughtful for a moment. "What about…" Her eyes lit up. "What about your parents? You know… your real parents? You know how much I've been wanting to know about you before you were… you."_

_ Edward turned his gaze from her face to the glowing amber stone. He considered a moment, then, his eyes fixed on the little personal Sun she had brought him, he pounded out without hesitation a song of celebration for the memories of Edward and Elizabeth Masen._

_

* * *

_

I run my thumb over the tiny amber droplet, smiling. "Bella," I whisper, "you clever girl."


End file.
